Last of The Couslands - The Warrior, The Mage, and The Warden
by Graymalkyn
Summary: The second part of the Couslands' tale, in which the siblings travel far and wide to fulfill their duty, and they encounter more than they have ever expected. (From Ostagar to Fort Drakon, multi-warden, slightly AU - a.k.a. same end, different means.)
1. Prologue

**Prologue to Act Two**

_Nerissa paced up and down the corridor, and after a while, she stopped in front of a door. Alistair's chambers. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but something inside her made her stop halfway._

_Morrigan knew about the duty. She had known about it all along. She had led her to believe that they would succeed almost unscathed, that happiness was attainable. _

_But at what cost?_

A child born with the soul of an Old God,_ she had said. If Alistair knew…_

_He would never agree._

_And what about her? What would Nerissa say? There was not only one side to her. Warden, fighter, lover, noblewoman, sister, daughter._

_She was Bryce Cousland's daughter._

_"We do what we must," she murmured. Her companions had done what they had to in order to survive. She could do no less. And still, there were limits. She could not _be_ less._

_She could not agree._

_She held her hand against her chest. Alistair would never know about this. She clenched her jaw and went back to her room, where Morrigan was waiting for her. As she opened the door, she heard another door creaking; someone was walking down the corridor. Nerissa went in quickly and closed the door behind her._

_"Well? Have you talked to him?"_

_Nerissa faced the young woman. She noticed that Morrigan's posture was relaxed. She was expecting a favourable response._

_"The answer is no," Nerissa said. Every word that came out of her mouth sank deep like the fingernails she was digging on her palms._

_Morrigan's eyes stared at Nerissa for what seemed to be an eternity. "You are a fool," she said. "If dying is what you want, then so be it. But I… I will not stay to watch you sacrifice yourself for a lost cause."_

_"The cause is not lost! Everything we have fought for, everything we did… _That_ will make a difference. And I am the Warden-Commander now," Nerissa stated. "I will not shun my duty."_

_"Your _duty_," Morrigan snorted. "You and your _precious_ duty, always. Well then, I'll do what I must as well."_

_As she walked by Nerissa, she stopped. They did not look at each other, but their arms touched slightly._

_"Thank you for your help, Morrigan," Nerissa said gently. She heard Morrigan scoff._

_"Farewell, my friend," the witch sighed with unusual sadness._

_Morrigan stepped out and closed the door behind her. She had to escape – too much time had been wasted already. She morphed into a mutt so that the others would not recognize her on her way out, and trotted towards the stairs._

_A boot came up from the shadows in the corner, hitting her and sending her flying against the wall. She whimpered._

_"Finally showing your true colours, bitch?" A man's voice. Morrigan shook her head, still dazed. She had lost her concentration and was back to her human form. She raised her eyes and saw him. _Of course.

_He grabbed her by the wrist and picked her up. "You and I," he said, watching her with furious eyes, "will have a little talk." _

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Next Chapter: Duncan**


	2. Duncan

**Duncan**

As they emerged, Duncan looked back. Parts of the outer curtain of the castle had been set on fire. It had been carefully planned: nothing that would damage the fortifications, but menacing enough to prevent the people inside from escaping. _Maker knows why,_ he thought. So many had been killed there. The servants of the Couslands had been fiercely loyal, till the end. All of them.

"_Please, Commander," Ser Gilmore said, holding the gates and managing the few men left in the hall. "The family… You will find all of them in the kitchen. The ladies must have reached the Teyrn by now."_

"_Will you be able to withstand?" Duncan asked gravely._

"_Yes, Commander." Ser Gilmore looked tired, but there was something in his eyes that made Duncan think of steel and strength._

"_If you survive and can escape," Duncan said, "find me at Ostagar. Maker be with you, Ser Gilmore."_

_The young man nodded and went on with his duty._

Duncan sighed. The good star that he had seemed to have in Orzammar, where circumstances had provided him with two potential recruits, had suddenly vanished when he had reached the Circle. _And now this,_ he thought, bitterly.

She caught up with him. She had wrapped herself up in a dirty cloak. She was looking down. _Nerissa Cousland._ The recruit he had been expecting to get. Unwilling, as many of them. Theron, Neria, Daveth; Jory had also been reluctant, even though he had fought for it, and Sereda and Faren had not had a choice: it was either recruitment or death. He secretly blamed Alistair for giving him hope that he would find eager recruits everywhere.

She stood by his side, facing forward. "There's no point in looking back, Duncan," she said softly. "Not now."

"I agree," he nodded. "We need to find a quick way across town, although I imagine that's where the bulk of Howe's soldiers will be."

"We can take the coastline route," she said. "It will take us longer, but I know a passage that will lead us to the outskirts of Highever."

* * *

They had almost reached the Spoiled Princess – it was evening already, and there they would be able to have a hot meal and a good night's rest. Duncan watched her. He did not know what he was expecting to see. Not a tearful lady, no. Certainly not that. But he had not been expecting the Tranquil-like attitude he was getting from her. She did not cry, or laugh, or make conversation. She did not ask questions. She did not challenge his decisions. Her mabari was trotting by her side, and occasionally he had seen the dog looking up and cocking his head. The dog was concerned about her. That was the only moment when she showed a sign of something – three pats on the head of the dog, a scratch behind the ear, and back on the road.

"We'll surely get there before the moon is out. We can sleep at the Inn. Maybe have a bath."

"Very well," she said. After a while, she asked, "Do you think _he_'s looking for me?"

She did not need to explain who _he_ was. "No," Duncan said reluctantly.

"Because he knows where I'll be," she said calmly.

"Yes," Duncan said gently. "Your disappearance coincides with mine. It would be a logical conclusion. But listen: as soon as we get to Ostagar, you'll be enlisted as a Grey Warden, under our protection and that of the king. King Cailan will know of this treason, do not worry."

He saw her clench her jaw and press her lips. She did not talk again.

* * *

As they were approaching Lake Calenhad, Duncan signaled her to stop. She looked at him enquiringly, but voiced no question. Virgil's ears raised and fell backwards. He started growling. She heard a distant sound, faint and steady. A body being dragged on the grass. Duncan's face darkened.

"I'll go with you," she whispered.

"No. Stay here." He advanced slowly. It was the last stretch of the road; he could see the warm light of the Inn in the distance. He knew that _they_ were there – he could feel them. A small group. He wondered what they were doing, far from the Wilds. Scouting, perhaps. Or maybe they had followed him from Orzammar.

"Darkspawn?" she said behind him.

"I told you to stay," he hissed.

"I'm not a dog," she replied. "Order me to fight instead, and I will."

He did not feel like arguing with her; besides, what better test than this? If she survived, she would take advantage of this seasoning and make a good addition. And if she died… "We're lucky. It's a small group. I can see three archers, but I think there's a fourth one. Stick with me, but if we become separated, you can deal with the Genlocks. The short ones. Be careful, though. They're deceptive and can come out of nowhere." Nerissa nodded. She whispered something in Virgil's ear and followed Duncan.

As soon as they stepped out, the Darkspawn turned to them. Nerissa noticed they communicated with each other using guttural noises, which made her think of the rumble of the sea in the coastal caverns of Highever. She heard hollow sniggering behind her and turned around just in time to dodge a dagger. She kicked the beast on the ribs and Virgil pounded on him.

"Don't let him bite them!" Duncan shouted. "It'll be poison to him!"

"You heard the man!" Nerissa shouted. Virgil stood there for a moment. Every fiber of his being was telling him to sink his teeth on the thing's neck. But the Master had spoken. He ran towards one of the archers and leapt over it, pushing it against a weathered column, knocking it out.

Nerissa pierced the fallen Darkspawn through the chest and charged ahead. She heard the zooming of an arrow and drew the cloak about her, protecting herself. She let go of it and focused on the beasts that Virgil was trying to keep down.

Duncan had no trouble with his little group. These were not in optimal conditions, he could tell. He ran his longsword through the chest of the first Hurlock and brought the body about as a shield as he charged against the rest. His left hand took his dagger in an overhand grip, and with his right foot, he pushed the body of the dead Darkspawn as he pulled back the sword. He brought his blades about in effortless, graceful movements, and if Nerissa had looked at him in that moment, she would not have thought him to be older than she was.

She slashed the throat of the first one. Their blood was red. She wished it was different, but these monsters bled just like the ones that had attacked them two nights before. She leapt out, ahead and to the right, rolling over. Virgil had prepared another one for her to kill. She penetrated the chest of the next beast, and as the tip of her blade sank in, she felt the thing gasping for breath. The blade was now inside the chest up to the hilt – she twisted it, killing the beast instantly. She rolled to the left and her rondel dagger flashed out, stabbing the last one with a left-handed thrust. _Let it sink in. Up to the hilt. Make it drink their blood. Twist it inside their chests. Destroy the beasts._ With her right hand, she slashed the monster across the face, again and again, howling, the rondel now piercing up the beast's skull, the right hand slitting the pulp over and over again until she could see their faces again.

There; the faces of the murderers.

Nerissa let out the scream that had been kept inside for two days now. She felt two hands dragging her away, but she was not capable of containing the screaming. The tears gushed down her face, washing the Darkspawn blood away. She kicked about and writhed, but Duncan was stronger. His right hand covered her mouth, and his left arm embraced her from behind, holding her tight.

* * *

He left her body on the bed. She was unconscious. He had had to do it. She would not stop shouting. He had taken the pouch of deathroot powder that she carried in her cinch and had put her to sleep. That was not the original idea, but he had miscalculated the dose. He had not used those methods for years now.

The innkeeper had probably thought… Well, he did not know what had been on the poor man's mind. An older man, carrying a young, unconscious woman in his arms… He sneered. When had he become so old? He thought about all those years of peace. Had they actually happened? They seemed so far away now, like a long-lost dream. King Maric, the war with Orlais, the dark passages of the Deep Roads – to him, it felt as if it had happened to another man, in another life.

But this was his life. Here, making his way to serve a different king, but the same land. Ferelden. His heart did not beat for Denerim, Highever, or Rivain. He was a servant of Ferelden, and he would die for it. He hoped the others would be as ready as he was. _Such dark thoughts, Duncan. _King Cailan would laugh and shake his head.

Duncan respected him. Living in the shadow of King Maric could not be easy. But Cailan had managed to keep the peace that his father and Loghain Mac Tir had fought for. _Fighting for peace,_ he snorted. _Something that only people do._ Humans, elves, dwarves – whatever they fought for, they did it on their own. He wondered if this new era would bring the races together. He felt it in his blood, in his dreams. _Four hundred years._ A different God this time. The song was there. But the nature of the people had not been altered. Everybody and their petty problems…

He rubbed his eyes. He could feel his mind, his thoughts, wandering away. His dreaming had been affected by the song, and the betrayal that had recently taken place had drained his spirit, leaving him exhausted. He took a chair and sat on it, resting his arms on the back and his chin on his arms. He watched her sleep. He wondered what she was dreaming of. Her fingers twitched almost imperceptible. He hoped that whatever it was that she was remembering, it would be pleasant. He highly doubted it, but he did not want to feel guilty for being about to destroy the peace of a restful sleep for the rest of her life.

* * *

_She was searching for someone._

A man.

_What did his face look like? Gentle. Kind._

Dairren.

_She held her white dress as she ran along the halls. She found him, lying on his chest. But his hair was dark, and long. He turned around._

Nathaniel.

_He cupped her face with his left hand as he sat up. His hand moved behind her head, drawing her towards him, pulling her into a kiss. He bit her. She opened her eyes, bewildered. His right hand was holding the dagger that was now stuck in her stomach. He twisted the blade and blood came out of her mouth. He whispered something in her ear. When she saw him again, his face had changed._

Rendon Howe.

* * *

She sat up quickly, as if she had been struck by lightning. Duncan was standing by her side. She panted and immediately touched her stomach, looking for the wound.

"Are you hurt?" Duncan frowned.

"No…" She felt the leather of her armor, looking for cuts or punctures. She found nothing. "No, I'm fine. Where are we?"

"We'll be staying at the Inn till sunrise. Can you row?" She nodded. "Good, because we'll be taking a boat to Redcliffe. We'll be riding to Ostagar with Arl Eamon." He took his blades and opened the door.

"I thought you said we'd be waiting till the morning," Nerissa said, getting on her feet.

"Yes, but I'm going to fetch some water so that you can clean yourself, and then I'm going to help the locals burn the bodies out there. You can continue sleeping."

"What about you?"

"There's only one bed."

"We can share it."

Duncan stared at her and shifted uncomfortably. She stared back.

"Don't give me that look, Commander. We're not a man and a woman. We're soldiers." There was a faint smile lingering on her lips. Could it be that she was actually enjoying his discomfort? He allowed himself to smile and she smiled back.

Duncan knew that she would be fine.

* * *

There were other bodies there. Qunari. Duncan examined them. Hornless. _The Ambassador type_, he thought. But what were they doing in Ferelden?

"Oi!" He heard behind him. "Ya gon' keep yer hands on tha' giant or ya gon' move?" A young boy, apprentice to a merchant, was looting the bodies.

"How many bodies were there?" Duncan asked.

"This'll be me fourth," the boy replied.

"I only see two here, and a third one over there." He remembered that the Darkspawn had been dragging one of the bodies.

"One was tak'n by folk from a farm. 'e was alive, tha' one. Brok'n badly." The boy saw his master waving at him. They would be leaving soon. The boy looked at him, undoubtedly expecting something for the information he had given. Duncan gave him some coppers and gave instructions to some men to light a fire for the bodies. They burned them at the bank of Lake Calenhad, two hours before sunrise.

* * *

He returned with a bucket for Nerissa. She undressed as soon as he went in. His eyes looked up, down, and sideways, but once again, she did not shy away. She kept her undergarments on and soaked a piece of cloth that Duncan had given her in the cold water. Well, if she was not uncomfortable with his presence, who was he to say something about it?

Duncan sat on the chair and cleaned his blades until she finished. She tied up her hair on a ponytail and that was when he saw the love bites. Unmistakable, and already turning greenish. He himself had left some of those, many years before. It was strange that he would be more embarrassed about seeing that small mark –something that implied that she might have had intimate contact with someone– than about seeing her almost naked. He frowned and cleared his throat. She turned towards him. She seemed to have forgotten that he was there.

"Forgive me, but I must ask you… Did you have a lover?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Pardon me?"

"I saw the marks on your neck and your…" Duncan pointed to his own chest. "Is there a possibility that you are with child?"

"Ah," she said. "Why? Would that be a problem? Do the wardens prefer to recruit virgins, or do they just dislike children?" She sounded amused.

"Well, battlefields are certainly no place for infants, and pregnant ladies do not make the best recruits, no. But if you were pregnant, then I would have to leave you in Redcliffe. It would probably be the best thing that could happen to you, since the life of a warden is not ideal for people who plan to raise a family."

"Is that so? Hmm…" Nerissa mused. "But no. I am not pregnant." She got dressed. "I... I did not lie with my lover. He died. That night."

"I'm sorry," Duncan said.

She bowed her head with a smile on her lips, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it off. "He wanted us to be married in the morning. A quick wedding; that would be all we needed," she said softly. "If my father hadn't asked him to join him as his second, he wouldn't have proposed that night. But he'd be alive." She let out a slow sigh and then she chuckled. "I used to complain about my mother not letting me go into town when I was younger. I thought I had no freedom of choice." She smiled bitterly. "How naïve of me, to think that we can actually decide. What a cruel illusion."

* * *

After Duncan had sent a messenger to Ostagar, letting the troops there know when he would be arriving, they managed to get a boat big enough for Virgil to feel comfortable. He hated being surrounded by water, and he had expressed his discomfort by howling.

"Please, tell him to stop," Duncan muttered after a while.

"Virgil," Nerissa pleaded, "just lay low and don't look around." Virgil snuffed and lay on his belly, lowering his head and closing his eyes.

Between the two of them, they made good progress. They stopped around midday, when they made out the blurred outline of Redcliffe Castle in the distance. They sat on the shore and had lunch. Virgil was more than happy to be out of the boat, and he celebrated by marking all the trees he was able to find, away from Duncan and his Master.

"Are there many others?" she asked Duncan, as she munched on an apple.

"Well," he said, lying on his back and looking up, hands behind his head. "There's Theron, a Dalish elf."

Nerissa gaped at him. "You're jesting. You found the Dalish?"

"Only one of the clans, unfortunately."

"I didn't think they'd be glad to part with their kin," she observed.

"Circumstances forced them to do so," he admitted.

"Oh?" She looked at him, but he did not elaborate. "You won't tell me."

"I think everybody has the right to keep where they come from to themselves, don't you think? It would be painful to explain certain situations."

"Yes, I understand," she said reluctantly, and went back to eating her apple.

"Then there are two people from Orzammar: Faren and Sereda. One of them is a warrior, and the other's a scoundrel. When you meet them, I dare you to guess which is which." He smiled. He sounded quite fond of the dwarves.

"I'm sensing some interesting stories there," she said. "But go on."

"Neria's the mage I told you about. And then there's Daveth, a jolly fellow from Denerim, and Ser Jory, who I recruited-"

"I know him. He's Helena's husband. Crazy man, getting himself recruited with a child on the way…"

"He won the honour after becoming the champion in a Grand Melee Tournament your father-"

"I know. Fergus told me about it. Broadsword. Slow but powerful."

"I'm surprised you weren't there."

"Fergus was everything my father needed, and I've never been interested in fighting for glory." Nerissa looked at her fingernails. "I'm not a warrior. I'm not a sweet maiden either."

"We don't always know what we are," Duncan said kindly.

Nerissa shrugged. "At any rate, perhaps Ser Jory didn't want to be around when the child was born, I don't know. Poor Helena. She's always wanted to have a family. She's like a mother for her two sisters… But I digress. I'm sorry. You were telling me about the others."

"That's quite alright. The only one left is Alistair. He's been a Warden for… Maker, I can't recall… Five or six months now? Good shield arm. He has a good heart too. They all do," Duncan sighed.

Nerissa looked ahead. "If having a good heart was enough to save us, then things would be different in this land," she said bitterly.

"True," Duncan granted. "But cynicism certainly does not help, unless it's to poison the heart. And what good can come of that? A good heart is like a strong foundation for anything you want to build."

Nerissa stood up. "It's getting late. Shall we?"

Duncan nodded and sat up. Two more hours and they would be in Redcliffe.

* * *

"Ah, the Warden-Commander," Arl Eamon said, "it is good to see you."

"Forgive the delay, Arl Eamon," Duncan apologized. "We have come across unexpected situations."

Nerissa crossed her arms over her chest and bowed. "How do you do, my lord?"

Eamon frowned. "Well met. Your face… looks familiar; is it possible?"

"This is Nerissa Cousland, milord." Duncan had discussed with Nerissa whether it would be wise to tell Arl Eamon who she was or let her be one more recruit. Duncan insisted on the fact that Eamon would be a powerful ally to speak against Arl Howe when King Cailan dealt with the matter. He was the king's uncle, after all.

"Of course! I remember your twin brother now. How is your family? Is your father at Ostagar already?" Duncan and Nerissa exchanged glances. "Is something the matter?" Eamon asked, having noticed the look in their faces.

"Perhaps we should talk in private, milord," Duncan said politely. Eamon's eyes went from one to the other and beckoned them to follow him.

* * *

"I can hardly believe it," he said, rubbing his chin and looking into the fire. "Howe… It shouldn't come as a surprise, though. He's not liked by many. Those who follow him… They don't do so out of respect, but fear." He turned around and his eyes landed on Nerissa. "My dear lady, I am… truly sorry. Your father was an excellent man. I swear that when the moment comes, you'll have my sword, my men, and my support to recover what you've lost."

Nerissa nodded and thanked him quietly. There was no way for her to recover what she had lost, but having this man on her and Fergus's side would be a start. She felt observed and looked up. Eamon was watching her.

"My lord?" she said tentatively.

He did not speak immediately. He seemed to be considering something. When he spoke, he addressed Duncan. "Commander," he said slowly, "why don't you leave Lady Cousland here in Redcliffe?"

"I beg your pardon?" Duncan sounded confused.

"She can stay with my family. She will be safe here. After the battle, she will be able to present her case to the king personally, without any pressing matters around." Eamon's eyes lay on her again.

Nerissa looked at Duncan. He seemed to be thinking something over as well. His eyes were semi-closed, peering at the arl. "I think-"

"If I may speak, Commander," Nerissa said. "I thank you for your generous offer, my lord, but I have a debt to repay. A Grey Warden has saved my life, and I have a duty to fulfill to the Order."

"Surely you understand, dear lady," Eamon said, "that, honourable as the Wardens may be, you would be squandering your noble birth and the kind of life for which you were raised. In all truth, don't you agree with me, Commander?"

The arl's frankness had caught Duncan off guard. How many of these lords felt the same way? It was just as he had thought: to each their own, and to the Void with the rest. He carefully searched for the words – he could not risk antagonizing the Arl of Redcliffe.

"My lord," he started saying, but Nerissa interrupted.

"Pardon me, Lord Guerrin, but is there a reason why I should not join the Wardens? A _real,_ _concrete_ reason? If there is something to discuss, I'd rather it was done openly."

Duncan shot a glance at her. He did not know why, but for a moment he felt as if he could strangle her. But then the moment passed, and he _saw _her. She was sitting upright, her hands resting on the arms of the chair – not gripping the arms, just lying there; relaxed and comfortable. Her eyes were looking at the arl not with defiance, but with confidence. She was willing to negotiate if there was something worth the deal. There was something about her… Maybe the arl had been right and wrong: the noble birth was undeniable, but even if she went through the Joining, it would never be taken away from her. He looked at the arl. He was not surprised to see him smiling. He was sizing her up.

"Commander, would you kindly leave us alone?"

* * *

Duncan had been pacing outside the study room for a long time now. Arl Eamon had encouraged him to get to his chambers, so that he could freshen up before dinner, but he felt uneasy. _Do not forget you've got the Right of Conscription,_ he told himself. _It doesn't matter whether they are of noble origin or peasants. You are the Warden-Commander. If you want her to join the ranks, she will. Her father gave you his word._ But was the word of a dead man worth anything now? Duncan stroked his beard pensively. At the end of the day, it had been easier to negotiate with the Revered Mother than with the nobles. King Maric's goodwill, much like Bryce Cousland's or the present king's, had certainly painted an unrealistic picture of what a nobleman was like for Duncan.

"The Warden-Commander, I presume?" The feminine voice behind him had an Orlesian accent. Duncan turned around to find a petite woman and a child standing there.

"Yes, Arlessa," he bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Arlessa Isolde nodded her head slightly and introduced her son. "Have you been announced to Eamon already?"

"Yes, milady. I am waiting for a meeting to finish. How do you do, young man?" Duncan greeted the boy. The boy smiled at him. Duncan smiled back. What was he supposed to say to a child? The child appeared to be as clueless as he was when it came to socializing.

The door opened and Nerissa and Arl Eamon walked out. "Dear lady, let me introduce you to my wife. My darling, this is Lady Cousland, from Highever. The last time you saw her was at her brother's wedding, remember?"

"Ah, the arlessa," Nerissa smiled. "I remember you." She looked at the child and her smile froze.

"Milady! Certainly!" Isolde curtsied and introduced her son to Nerissa. The boy bowed and Nerissa nodded with a polite smile on her face.

"Lord Guerrin, I'm afraid I'll have to be excused. I'd like to rest properly before departing tomorrow, if that's possible."

"Of course, my dear girl," Eamon smiled. "I'll show you to your room. Commander, I'll show you the way to your chamber for the evening, and then, may I have a word with you? In private?"

Duncan nodded. As they were going up the stairs, he wondered what those two had said to each other. She had obviously refused to stay, but Duncan thought that the arl looked too happy for someone who had not got their way. What had she offered to keep him content?

The arl showed them to their rooms and then told Duncan he would wait for him downstairs. He let his hair down and washed his face and his hands. There was a soft knock. "Come in!" he shouted. Nerissa entered the room and closed the door behind her.

"Is everything all right?" Duncan asked, as he looked for something to dab his face in.

"It's the… frilly thing over there," Nerissa said, pointing to something that looked like a dress for a ragdoll. _Of course,_ _Orlesians,_ Duncan thought.

"As you may have realized, I will be departing with you tomorrow," Nerissa said slowly, as she sat on his bed.

"Yes," he replied. "I must admit that for a moment, I thought-"

"-That I would leave you, Commander?" There was a sparkle in the corner of her eyes. Duncan did not know if she was going to laugh or cry. If those were tears, he did not want to see them. He had never felt comfortable around mourners. He turned around and looked at himself in the mirror as he fixed his hair.

"I was hoping you would keep your father's word," he said eventually. "And you have."

She huffed and looked away. _Yes, definitely tears,_ Duncan thought. He stood in front of her. "Are you coming down for supper?"

Nerissa shook her head. "I will go to bed now. I can't face seeing that child again. He reminds me too much…" She was mumbling now, and Duncan could barely identify half of the words she was saying. Suddenly she stood up and looked at him in the eye. "I won't hold you back. I'll see you in the morning, bright and-" She stopped and bit her lips. She took a deep breath and said, "Have a good night, Commander."

* * *

"You should have left him where he was, Commander." Eamon was sitting at the other side of the desk, leaning against the back of his chair. "Taking him away was against his father's wishes."

"Pardon me, milord, but King Maric's gone-"

"And his second, Loghain Mac Tir, still remains. He is the one who had to deal with the appeasement of the rumours about the boy. And then you go and recruit him, and you put him in unnecessary danger. You seem to have forgotten who he is."

"Never," Duncan said seriously. "He possesses extraordinary qualities and he'll be a great help for the Wardens. If I'd thought otherwise-"

"I know that Alistair wasn't the one who won that tourney. The king was not pleased, I can assure you."

"I have already talked to the king, and he did not seem to oppose-"

"Cailan respects the Wardens. And so do I, Duncan." Eamon had leaned forward. "But the royal situation is delicate at the moment, and putting a Theirin in danger is unwise. Putting two Theirins at risk is playing with fire. Cailan's fascination with the Order is very similar to his father's. But many others around him do not feel the same way, Commander."

"Are you suggesting…? What is it that you imply?" Duncan's dark eyes searched for the answer in Eamon's face. The arl sat back and sighed.

"I'm just telling you to watch your back and those of your recruits. Should anything happen to Cailan…" Eamon cleared his throat. "As you know, there is no direct heir yet."

"Ah. So that's the reason for all the concern about Alistair now."

Eamon shook his head. "I've always been interested in the boy. He was very young when he decided to hate me for sending him away. Hopefully, by now he will have understood that it was for the best."

The arl continued speaking, but Duncan was barely listening. He recalled the image he had of Alistair. The boy who had been cast aside. The warrior who had not been allowed to fight. The loser of the tournament, and yet, the one who had been given the reward. His stature was different from Cailan's, but he was his father's son through and through. If the king or the arl knew what the Joining really entailed, Duncan was sure that they would have him hanged and drawn. And definitely quartered.

* * *

Not all of the arl's men were ready. The blacksmith of Lothering had been summoned to help the local smithy with the making and repairing of the weapons. Eamon refused to send his men without the necessary protection. He would need at least four more days. Duncan, Nerissa, and Virgil, accompanied by a small token force, departed early in the morning. The horses were well rested and the company was able to travel through the Hinterlands without any difficulties.

"There it is," Duncan pointed out to a construction far in the distance. "The fortress of Ostagar."

Nerissa looked up. The structure was formidable. The closer they got to it, the smaller she felt. As they rode on, it became evident that it was not just one building, but a series of external walls and towers. One of those was higher than any structure Nerissa had ever seen. "What's that?" she asked Duncan.

"That's the Tower of Ishal," he replied.

"It looks as if it was about to collapse," Nerissa shuddered. She had never liked heights or ruins. Gwyn was the one interested in those subjects.

"It serves its purpose," Duncan replied. "It is an excellent lookout-" An arrow zoomed by and his horse neighed loudly and stood on its hind legs. Nerissa's horse leaped forward and tried to flee, but she held the reins with an iron hand. The horse was struck by an arrow on one of its legs and Nerissa lost control of it. Duncan caught her by the waist and pulled her off her mount and onto his horse.

"You can't stop here!" one of the soldiers shouted. "We'll deal with this!"

Duncan nodded and once Nerissa had been secured, he dug his heels on the sides of the horse and galloped towards the fortress. Nerissa turned around and saw the Redcliffe men directing their horses towards the bushes. Virgil was with them.

How long had they been waiting for them to arrive?

She had put her arms around Duncan's waist and leaned forward. She could feel him pressing his heels rapidly. She did not dare look ahead, but she was sure that they would be getting to the fortress soon. The path over which the horse was dashing looked better preserved in that area.

And then they were, at last. The watchman greeted Duncan, who informed him of what had happened. The man gave orders to four guards so that they would act as reinforcements for the soldiers that had been left behind, but when they had finished mounting, they saw the Redcliffe men coming, dragging the bodies of three men behind them.

Virgil ran towards Nerissa. His mouth was covered in blood. She hugged him as he panted, and then approached the men, who were reporting to Duncan.

"No emblems or shields," one of the men said. "The dog killed one instantly, the other two put up a fight."

"Are you all right?" Nerissa asked. "I trust that nobody has been seriously injured?"

"Certainly not," the soldier replied. "The dog helped quite a bit." He patted Virgil on the head and the mabari barked appreciatively.

"Take the horses with you and find your place in the camp," Duncan said. The soldiers crossed their arms over their chests and bowed before leaving.

Nerissa was crouching next to Virgil. Duncan saw her whispering something to the dog. He was sitting, waving one of his huge paws and touching her arm as if he was comforting her. _Beautiful creature,_ Duncan thought. _Smart and loyal. Were it always that easy with humans…_

She had stood up and was now waiting for him to make a move. He shook his head, plagued with the phantoms of betrayal and power-hungry lords. "Welcome to Ostagar," he said. "I'm sorry about the poor welcome."

Nerissa smiled weakly and nodded. He started walking and she followed him. She was there at last. Her brother would be there. And when the moment came, she would inform him of the situation.

But Duncan wondered if that would be wise. They would surely put their own personal matters ahead of the larger task they all had to deal with. He was deep in thought when he noticed that Nerissa and the mabari had stopped. He looked ahead. A man in shining golden armor was walking along the bridge, coming towards them, escorted by a group of soldiers.

"The king's coming," Duncan said to Nerissa. But she was gone. He looked around and saw her dashing towards a tree. The dog was barking frantically and she was shouting something. Duncan rushed towards her and then he saw _him_. He had climbed the tree quite swiftly, considering that he was wearing a splintmail.

"Who are you?!" Nerissa shouted. "Were you spying on us?!"

"What, me?! N-no! I was-Duncan!" the young man shouted. "Tell her!"

Duncan sighed. "What are you doing up there, Alistair?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?!" Alistair replied, trying to stay away from the leaping, growling, and teeth-baring Virgil.

Nerissa put her blades away and told Virgil to be quiet. The mabari complied, but his eyes did not detach from the young man.

Alistair climbed down the tree awkwardly and tossed his hair carefully to get rid of the leaves. "I was beginning to think that you had decided to run away," he said with a smile.

Duncan and Nerissa looked at him sternly.

"Heh… Heh heh…" Alistair attempted to laugh. He cleared his throat and was about to say something, when another voice called from behind.

"Ho there, Duncan!" Cailan called out with a smile.

Duncan went back to the path, Nerissa and Virgil trailing behind him. Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair recoil and walk away. She felt a pang of pity for him. It could not have been easy to grow up knowing who his father was. And now his brother…

She heard her name and looked back at her companions. Cailan was watching her. He was very much like the young man she had met a few years before, at his wedding. His warm demeanour had not changed. It was easy to see why Duncan stood firmly behind him.

Duncan introduced them to each other and the moment the nobles started speaking, he heaved a sigh of relief. She would be safe now. The promise he had made to her father had been fulfilled. He could focus on his task again.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Next Chapter: Cailan**

**Notes: **the stories of the other Warden recruits can be found here on FanFiction as one-shots:

**~Neria Surana: /s/9062761/1/Words-Elf-Mage-Origin**

**~Theron Mahariel: /s/9116829/1/Embrace-Dalish-Elf-Origin**

**~Sereda Aeducan: /s/9067897/1/Pride-Dwarf-Noble-Origin**

**~Faren Brosca: /s/9088256/1/Chance-Dwarf-Commoner-Origin**


	3. Cailan

**Cailan**

Of course he remembered her, but truth be told, his wedding seemed to have taken place ages before, and had she been there for the Queen's flower parade? Of course not, only married women had been requested to participate in it. Her mother had been there, though - and her sister-in-law. Ah, perhaps… Was she the reluctant lady that had danced the _Gliss_ with him during the celebrations of Teyrn Loghain's fiftieth anniversary? Of course she was. Red dress and white sash. Queen Anora had complimented Eleanor about her manners and poise. Had her mother never told her? Dear Maker, she had surely changed since the last time they had met. She was a woman now.

King Cailan smiled at Nerissa, but the charming smile faded away when Duncan mentioned the betrayal that her family had suffered at the hands of the Arl of Amaranthine. Nerissa's face remained impassive, except for those moments in which the king's eyes lay on her. Then, she would smile politely and nod accordingly.

"I will not stand by and condone such vile acts. Once this battle is over, I will personally see that Arl Howe pays for this atrocity."

"Your uncle has been very kind to me. He has offered to help me, should our situation come to open conflict."

"And it will, unfortunately." He seemed to be pondering something. He looked at her and said, "I'm afraid your brother will not return for at least two more days."

Nerissa smiled briefly. "I won't tell him about this, Your Majesty. At least, not until the battle is over. There's no point in distracting him from his duty when there's nothing we can do about it now."

Cailan nodded. "True; a larger task demands our attention. Speaking of which… Duncan, I've been watching your new recruits. One of the Wardens told me that they would soon be undergoing their Joining."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Will there be enough time to train them in the ways of the Order?"

"Of course. They already have experience fighting, and all of them must have been exposed to Darkspawn by now. Take Nerissa here, for instance."

"With all due respect, Duncan: I would rather you referred to her as 'Lady Cousland'," Cailan said politely.

Nerissa cleared her throat and looked at Duncan. "I'm sorry, milord. I asked Duncan to treat me the same way he would-"

"-treat the others?" Cailan stared at her. "Are you certain of this?"

"Soon I will be just another Warden." Nerissa stated. "After the battle… We shall see."

Cailan's light-blue eyes squinted, but his lips relaxed in a boyish smile. "Of course. Well," he bowed, "I just wanted to welcome you personally, Duncan. I will surely see you in the Warden ranks, mil- _Nerissa._" He turned around to leave.

"My lord?" Nerissa called after him.

"Yes?" His soldiers took a few steps back to give the nobles some privacy.

Nerissa's fingers slipped into a pouch hanging from her girdle and took what seemed to be a piece of parchment, folded and marked with the Guerrin seal. "Lord Guerrin sends you this message." Cailan took the note from her hand and gave her an inquisitive look. "He asks that you read it and, should you wish to discuss the matter further, you do it with me." Her voice was veiled, which only served to pique Cailan's curiosity. But he smiled and nodded. He bowed one last time, and returned to the royal grounds.

Duncan watched them. The smile on their faces… That was the noble mark – the nobles could double-cross you, stab you, put you to the stake and light the fire under your feet, with that smile pasted on their faces. It could mean anything, and yet, it meant nothing, for it was not a true smile. It was devoid of glee or warmth. It reminded him of the Orlesian masks that covered the eyes.

The nobles of Ferelden and their perpetual grins…

* * *

"Maker, where's Alistair?" Duncan grunted as they reached the Wardens' camp after dropping Virgil off at the Kennels. Logan waved his arm and the recruits who were sparring stopped their activity and approached Duncan.

"Commander! It's good to see you again!" one of them beamed. He smiled at Nerissa. "Oh! A fellow recruit?"

"Indeed, Faren." Duncan laid his hand on her shoulder. "Everyone, this is Nerissa. She'll be joining you –or at least _some _of you– for one last mission before your Joining to the Order. Logan, did they retrieve-?"

"Yes, Commander. We've got enough vials. Shall we do it tonight?"

Duncan looked at their faces. So young, so full of life… They deserved one last night of good sleep. He shook his head. "Tomorrow night, when they return from the outpost."

Nerissa noticed their eyes on her. She knew about them thanks to Duncan, but to them, she was an unfamiliar face. Except for Ser Jory, who had obviously recognized her. Nerissa hoped he would not say anything, at least until she had time to talk to him. He seemed to be about to open his mouth and she shook her head discreetly. Jory understood. And then, the elven mage. The girl was looking at her intensely. Nerissa blinked. Perhaps she had met Gwyn? Yes… She may even have noticed a resemblance between the two of them.

"Logan, have you seen Alistair around?" Duncan's voice distracted her. "I saw him briefly when the king came to bid his welcome and then he disappeared."

"I saw him talking to the Revered Mother," Logan said. "Perhaps he was sent on an errand."

Duncan grunted. "The Mother, of course. In any case, he should be back in camp as soon as possible. I need to discuss tomorrow's mission with him."

"I can fetch him for you if you wish," Nerissa said.

"Thank you, Nerissa." Duncan scratched his chin. "But please," he added in a murmur, "do not wander about on your own. You can never be too cautious." Nerissa nodded and Duncan turned to the recruits. "Would someone kindly accompany Nerissa to find Alistair?"

"I'll go," Jory said, taking a step forward.

* * *

"Have you seen Lord Cousland, Jory? Did he arrive well?"

"Yes, my-La-_Nerissa."_ Jory frowned. "I saw him as soon as he arrived. He came to talk to me and congratulated me once again. Er... If you don't mind me asking, why can't-?"

Nerissa stopped on her heels. He had to know. But this was not the right time – then again, when would it be right for him to know? "Because my... father gave Duncan his word that I would become a Warden, and Maker willing, I shall." She was starting to feel sick.

"Pardon me, but I find it strange that the Teyrn has agreed to let his daughter be recruited into-"

"He... He had no choice," Nerissa stated weakly. She put a hand over her mouth, hoping that the gagging feeling would disappear soon. She knew what that feeling was. She needed to be alone. She had felt the same way when Eleanor had kept her close after Gwyn's-

Jory jumped backwards to avoid getting hit by the steamy vomit on his boots. Some bits of Nerissa's frugal lunch lay there in a pool of yellowish liquid, and the stench made her feel nauseated. She gagged again.

"Andraste's Mercy! Are you all right?" Jory exclaimed.

Nerissa straightened up slowly and wagged her finger. She walked to the nearest tree very slowly and pressed her forehead against the bark. Suddenly, she felt Jory's hand timidly rubbing her back. "I hope you don't think me bold. This helped Helena at the beginning of the pregnancy," he said.

"I'm not with child," she said weakly.

"It might help all the same, right?" Surprisingly, he was right, although Nerissa did not know if what had soothed her had been the backrub or the fact that he had stood by her. She coughed.

"Ugh, my breath smells like my hound's."

Jory took some chestnuts from his pouch and gave her some. "Here. I suppose your stomach can handle this much."

"Did you give these to Helena as well?" Nerissa's face barely concealed the shadow of a smile.

"Of course," Jory smiled. "Oh, and..." He took the flask that was hanging from his cinch. "It's just water, but it will help you wash your mouth and get rid of the rest of the... You know."

Nerissa took the flask gratefully and took a swig. She rinsed her mouth and spat the remainder. She cleaned off her lips with the back of her hand and popped the chestnuts into her mouth. "Thank you," she said kindly.

* * *

"Get out of my way, you fool!"

Nerissa frowned as she saw the mage storm away from the old temple. Alistair's arms were crossed over his chest and there was a funny grin dancing on his lips.

"Friend of yours?" Nerissa asked, giving him a friendly little smile.

"Yeeees, _suuuure!_ _Best _friends! We're even thinking of getting matching bracelets! Mages..." Alistair shuddered. "The mere thought of them twitching their little fingers around me gives me nightmares."

"Oh, I don't know. Not all of them are this bad," Nerissa said seriously, her hands behind her back. "I've heard dragons consider them to be a delicacy, so it's always good to have a mage in your party."

"Well, I guess it would be cruel of us to deprive dragons of such a treat." Alistair smiled but then he frowned. "Wait... You're the one with the mabari." He looked around. "Is he nearby?"

"No, he's in the kennels, instructing other dogs on how to scare Wardens up trees."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "It would be wrong of me to assume that he learnt that trick from you, would it?"

"You flatter me, milord," Nerissa said, curtsying graciously. "Never before had I been called a bitch so tactfully."

"I-I didn't mean..." Alistair blushed.

"Nerissa's pulling your leg, Ser Alistair," Jory said behind her. "Duncan asks that you join us in camp." Nerissa nodded and she and Jory walked back to the Warden grounds, followed by Alistair.

After a few seconds, he said casually, "So... Your name is Nerissa."

"Indeed," she replied.

"Are you the recruit from Highever?"

"She is, just as I am," Jory replied quickly.

"I remember you told me about the tourney, Ser Jory. I think Duncan's from Highever," Alistair said. "I've never been there myself."

"It's a beautiful place," Nerissa said quietly.

"Indeed it is, and filled with beautiful people. Although what I would really like to do is to take my family to see my Redcliffe," Jory added, nostalgically. "Such a nice town."

Alistair had stopped. "You... hail from Redcliffe?"

Jory nodded. "My father was the smithy for the Arl. Have you been there?"

Nerissa watched Alistair carefully. There seemed to be some sort of struggle within him. "_I _have," she said, "and it's a great place for exercising the legs. Up and down, up and down..."

"Indeed it is!" Jory laughed. "You should have tried going up the way to the castle wearing heavy armour!"

"Oh, you know – I've always stayed away from that sort of thing."

Alistair cleared his throat. "I take it you two know each other quite well?" he asked.

"That we do," Nerissa answered, winking at Jory. He looked back at her and smiled.

For the rest of the walk the conversation revolved around Duncan and the monumental task that he had undertaken by travelling far and wide to find new recruits. Alistair had talked to the others before and had been pleased to see how much they appreciated their commander.

"What's not to like about Duncan?" Nerissa said. "He's a skilled fighter and a firm leader."

"True; he also seems quite fair-minded," Jory said. Nerissa nodded.

"I may not know him as well as you do, Alistair," she said, "but the man has been exactly what I expected him to be. I hope that answers your question."

Alistair smiled and nodded. "It certainly does," he murmured as they approached the Wardens' camp.

* * *

"It seems that our green-eyed lass is quite the little temptress," Sereda sneered. She was watching Nerissa, who was talking to Daveth, Jory, and Alistair. "In the week we spent here, the Cloudheads never paid that much attention to us – right, Ner-? Oh shit, _not you too..._"

Neria's eyes were fixed on Nerissa. She _had _to be Gwyn's sister. They looked remarkably similar, although they acted very differently.

"Why do you always make a distinction between the humans and us?" Faren asked.

"Because we _are_ distinct, nugbutt," Sereda replied, following Neria's eyeline.

"I think they're pretty much like us," Faren pondered. "Only taller."

"They aren't," Theron mused. "They're _shem._ They are always running and wasting their lives away. They never build anything to endure. Even their greatest constructions are dwarven."

"Well, I agree with Faren," Neria said slowly. "In the Circle, elves and humans were treated equally."

"So, all of you were mistreated?" Sereda asked.

"Not exactly. Only those who were rambunctious – or the ones that refused to obey." Neria thought of Anders and Jowan and sighed. Theron noticed the change in her expression and put his hand over her head sympathetically. She smiled.

They heard laughter coming from the humans' side of the fire. Alistair was obviously teasing Jory about something and Daveth was laughing out loud. Nerissa suddenly raised her eyes towards the other recruits. She stood up and walked towards them.

"We were wondering if you'd like to join us," she said amicably.

"No, you weren't," Sereda said.

"We're fine as it is, thank you," Theron grumbled.

She looked at Neria and Faren, who blushed and looked away. "I... Have we offended you in any way?" she said softly. "If so, I apologize."

"No, no!" Neria said hurriedly. "It's just that... Well, we're tired."

"I understand," Nerissa smiled.

"I don't think you do," Sereda said coolly. "For the past two days we've been scouting around the Wilds, killing those nasty Darkspawn and collecting blood, while you and the pretty boys there sit around the fire, drink ale, and _fiddle-faddle_-"

"What's... What?" Faren frowned, confused.

"So do _not_ tell me that you _understand_, _human,"_ Sereda finished. Her blue eyes pierced into Nerissa's green eyes and an uncomfortable silence surrounded all of them.

"Is everything all right?" Duncan was standing behind Nerissa, and Alistair had also approached the group.

Faren nudged Sereda discreetly and Theron put a hand over her shoulder. "Yes, Commander. Just... Two women talking."

"Oh. Yes, well... That explains a lot," Duncan chuckled.

"Er... You're welcome to join us, you know," Alistair said awkwardly. "At the moment we're discussing-"

The sound of armour marching towards them served as a distraction. The king's honour guard. Duncan frowned and turned towards the men.

"I trust King Cailan fares well, Ser Elric?"

"Yes, Commander," the man said and shifted uncomfortably. "The king requests the presence of one of your recruits."

"Oh? Who would that be?" Duncan said, crossing his arms. The man looked at Nerissa.

"Why would the king-" Alistair started saying, but he was interrupted by Sereda's derisive sneer.

"Isn't that obvious, Ser Warden?" she mocked softly.

Nerissa felt her cheeks burning. _Let her believe what she wants,_ she thought. _Anything but the real reason._ "Commander?" She had turned to Duncan, as if she was asking for permission. Duncan knew that she was not actually asking for his permission – she was letting him know that she would be going regardless of what he said. Duncan nodded and Nerissa turned to Elric Maraigne.

"I am ready," she said calmly.

* * *

Nerissa had not expected to see the array of books on the desk. The rumours about him were, of course, true. King Cailan, lover of tales, stories and ballads, had found a place amidst the chaos of the preparations for the battle, and had not left his love for legends behind in Denerim. Nerissa wondered what he thought his role would be in the upcoming battle. She was surprised to see his set of platemail tossed aside – probably waiting for shining. Without his armour on, he looked much younger, and definitely more humane. He was wearing a white tunic, embroidered in gold, and a pair of breeches. His hair was loose and it appeared to have been washed recently.

"Thank you, Elric," he nodded at his guard. "Wait outside to escort her on the way back."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The man bowed and left the tent. Cailan invited her to take a seat and took a pitcher. Nerissa smelled the sweet scent of warm spiced wine as he poured it in two goblets and offered her one.

He sat near her and raised his drink. "To your family, dear lady. May the Maker have them by His side."

Nerissa took a quick sip to conceal her suddenly moist eyes. The sweetness she had sniffed before had been deceptive. This was slightly pungent and yet, the aftertaste was incredibly smooth. She raised her eyes and saw Cailan watching her as he held his wine and swirled it slowly. She blushed and left the glass on a little stool beside them.

"I've read Eamon's letter," he finally said.

She nodded. "I assume that is the reason why I am here, milord."

"Do you know about _all_ of its contents?" Cailan's eyes glittered in the candlelight.

"I dare not presume that," she replied.

Cailan took a swig and left his goblet next to hers. "My uncle," he said slowly, "asks too much of me sometimes. He appears to believe that just because I am the king, I am free to do whatever pleases me." He stood up and shuffled his feet pensively. "Alas, it is not so."

He went silent for a while. Nerissa watched him quietly. In the soft candlelight, his face looked very similar to Alistair's, and still, there was a certain shadow over him, veiled by the brave face, the eternal smile, and his warm manners. "It is not so," he repeated to himself.

Nerissa stood up and approached him. "I am sure that Lord Guerrin did not wish to alter your humour in this way. This is why he sent me. He only wants you to be reminded of the importance of-"

"An heir. I know. So, what will it be, milady?" Cailan's eyes looked hard. "Will you be the one to provide me with that heir?"

Elric Maraigne excused himself into the tent. "I am sorry to interrupt you, Your Majesty, but Teyrn Loghain is waiting to have a word with you."

"Again?" Cailan huffed. Ser Elric had always ignored the king's reactions, since they were meant to be invisible. "See him in."

"Should I go?" Nerissa asked softly. "What will the Teyrn think?"

"Do not go. By this time, I am sure Loghain has already set his mind as to what he thinks of me," he said in a surprisingly bitter way. "Your presence will not affect that."

Nerissa hid her goblet just before Loghain Mac Tir entered the royal tent. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her, and said coolly, "Cailan."

"Loghain," Cailan smiled. "Have you met-?"

"Lady Cousland." Loghain's voice was rich and deep, with a hint of straightforwardness. "I have heard about the incident in Highever. My condolences."

"Thank you, milord," Nerissa replied quietly, keeping her eyes low.

Cailan squinted at his general. "I thought we were going to revise your strategy tomorrow," he said slowly. "Unless you fear that something will escape your mind in your sleep tonight, I do not see why you are here at this time of the evening."

"To entreat you not to spend so much time with the Grey Wardens, Cailan. They are an independent Order – meanwhile, our forces need you." His voice was deep and chilly. "There is much talk about your fraternizing with them and as you know, the Wardens have yet to prove their worth if they want to regain the trust of the Fereldan people."

"The people? Don't you mean _yours, _Loghain?" Cailan sounded upset. "Your animosity towards them is baffling. Why, I think it is only rivalled by the Orlesians!"

"Cailan..."

"You see, Nerissa? A king I am, and yet..." Cailan heaved a sigh. "I will spend time with our troops tomorrow, Loghain. Would that please you?"

"Could we have this conversation in private?" The teyrn glimpsed at Nerissa, who nodded and walked to the exit.

"You are not going anywhere, milady. This is not a serious conversation." The king turned to his father-in-law. "If it is, I do not wish it to be so. If it isn't, let's not turn it into one, Loghain. Not tonight."

Loghain huffed. "I wonder if you will ever take things seriously, Cailan. Your father-"

"Unfortunately, my father is dead and gone," Cailan replied. "Whatever you may think, he will never return. When you act like this, I seriously consider those rumours that say that he was actually trying to escape from the weight of the Crown."

"You may have been king for some years now, Cailan," Loghain replied brashly, "but it is time you started acting like one. The queen-"

"Enough, Loghain." Cailan stared at Loghain icily and raised his hand. "Whatever we need to discuss, we can do it in the morning. I will not keep my guest waiting."

Loghain folded his arms across the chest and bowed before leaving the tent, giving Nerissa one last look. Cailan did not move until he had heard the noises outside subside. He gulped the contents of his goblet and left it back on the table. He passed his fingers through his hair as he paced about slowly, lost in thought.

After a while, Nerissa spoke softly. "Your Majesty..."

Cailan frowned – he seemed to have forgotten her presence there. "I... apologize." He sat down next to her. "Please, remind me what I was saying before we were interrupted."

"We were about to discuss Lord Guerrin's... idea," she said tactfully. "I'm sorry, milord; the arl did not send me here for you. He... asked me to watch over Alistair."

Cailan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well," he said, after a while, "it appears that my uncle has indeed cast his nets further than I expected." He stood up and poured himself some more wine, but he did not drink it. He stood there, holding the goblet between his fingers, staring into its blood-red contents. "If we weren't related, I would feel inclined to see his plan as treason. Ah well," he said, bitterly, "another arrow to dodge, isn't it?"

"You must understand, milord," Nerissa said in a low voice, "that your uncle is concerned about the Theirin line. Your name is not only yours. It is a symbol of great importance to the people of Ferelden. And, as worried as Lord Guerrin is about the question of a royal heir, he was quite concerned about the danger in which Alistair may have been put – rather unnecessarily, according to him."

Cailan slumped against the back of his seat. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Alistair must be the worst-kept secret in the history of royal bastards."

"Actually, I think the Antivans can compete for that prize, milord," Nerissa smiled.

Cailan chuckled. "True." He leaned forward and played with the rim of his goblet. "I do not remember ever talking to him. It is strange to think that the same blood runs through our veins and yet... We've led such different lives." He took a sip of the spiced wine and looked at her with a faint smile. "I had heard the rumours, but then... When my father disappeared, when everything was thrown upon me, I found the letters. My father, Loghain, Eamon – now Duncan... They've all been watching over him, for years. In different ways, of course. And he knows nothing of this. Yes, he knows of his heritage, but I do not think he's aware of the wheeling and dealing behind him."

"It must have been difficult for you to learn about him."

"Oh no, not really. As you must know, the rumours of infidelity have followed kings since the beginning of time. And I always thought I had received the better end, actually, as the legitimate son and only heir," he let out a chuckle. "But when I learned that my father's bastard had been recruited into the Wardens, I envied him. I truly did. There was a moment in my life, when I was much younger, in which I would have given anything to be recruited. Much as he appreciated the Wardens, my father would not have consented to that, ever." He laughed. "And Maker, I think that Loghain would have died of embarrassment. Orlesians and Wardens – the best way to make sure that Loghain will dash out of a room. He almost had an attack when he saw that the queen had taken in an Orlesian handmaiden."

"Surely the queen knows of her father's antagonism?"

"You can be sure of that. But that is Anora for you – she is the only one that can take him on without breaking a sweat. She can take on anyone. Yes, that includes me. Oh, I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, milord."

"Good. In any case, we were discussing Alistair. What did Eamon ask of you?"

"That I stay close to him."

"Meaning?"

"That I make sure to go back with him to Redcliffe once the battle is over."

"You won't be able to take him with you. In fact, I am not sure that the Wardens let anyone out of the Order once they have joined in. Does he expect you to persuade Duncan to release him?"

"No. He expects me to persuade Alistair to abandon the Order – at least, until you have secured an heir."

"How does he expect you to do that?"

She looked at him but said nothing. Cailan raised his eyebrows.

"Aaah. I see. It would be highly unusual to see a Cousland using those... methods. I doubt your father would have approved. My uncle certainly drives a hard bargain. Are you sure you are committed to the task?"

Nerissa blushed. "I'm afraid you may have misunderstood, milord. You uncle would never ask me to do such a thing. He left it to my discretion. I do think that it will be challenging, though. Alistair seems to feel very much at ease with the Wardens."

Cailan nodded. He heard Elric's voice outside the tent, arguing with someone with a marked Orlesian accent. The royal guard came in soon after. "Message for you, Your Majesty."

Cailan stood up and took the missive. "Thank you," he said, dismissing him. Nerissa observed the king's face as he read whatever message he had received. Cailan saw her watching him and crumpled the letter. He smiled. "Apparently, it's correspondence day today."

"I hope it was good news."

"Only time will tell," he smiled and cocked his head. "Now..." Cailan took a small package from a chest and approached her slowly. "Would you like to partake in a bit of fun with me?" He left the package in her hands.

Nerissa smiled as she took it. "Diamondback or Fortune's Tower?"

"Fortune's Tower, of course," the king chuckled.

* * *

Ser Elric walked her back to the Wardens' camp. As they were getting closer, Nerissa saw that Jory was waiting for her. He was wrapped in a heavy cloak and he was scuffing his feet on the ground, trying to keep warm. He strode towards her.

"Did Duncan ask you to meet me?"

"No. I just... thought I should be here." He nodded at Ser Elric and the royal guard left them. Seeing her shivering, Jory took off his cloak and put it over Nerissa's shoulders. "There. Better?"

She smiled. "Thank you, Jory."

He smiled back at her as they walked towards the campfire. "Your tent is that one," he said, pointing out. "Neria and Sereda have been there for some time now."

Nerissa stared at the tent for a while and shook her head. "I'm not eager to get there. You should get some rest, though," she said, rubbing her hands together near the fire.

"To be honest, I was having trouble sleeping. Perhaps tomorrow, after we return from the outpost, I will be more tired and sleep will come to me easily. I would like to have some action, finally."

"I've seen more than I would have liked," Nerissa muttered and immediately bit her tongue.

"What is it that you said?" Jory asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

Jory sat next to her. He breathed in and out slowly. Nerissa could see him clenching and relaxing his fists, his mouth growing thinner with every second.

"Jory..." she murmured.

"Please," he said quietly. "Please, tell me why you're here. Tell me why all this secrecy around who you are. Your family, the Couslands... They would never deny their name. Their name is Highever's pride. What happened that made you-?"

Nerissa's throat tightened. "I... No, it's not like-"

"Please don't lie," Jory said softly, a sad look on his face. He put his hand gently over hers and pressed it sympathetically.

"They're dead," she said blankly.

Jory was shocked.

"They're dead," she repeated more slowly. "They're dead." The tears started rolling down her cheeks. "My father, my mother, my sister, my nephew; all the people in the castle, they're...!" Spasms of pain and sorrow shook her body, her back convulsed in tears, in the spoken realization of everything that had been lost and the people that she would never see again.

He wanted to ask how it had happened, but he found himself surrounding her trembling body with his arms, holding her close as she found the outlet that she needed.

"What's the matter?" Alistair's voice said behind them. "Is she...?"

"It's alright, Ser Alistair," Jory replied, hoping that the young man would go away soon.

But he did not do so. Instead, he crouched next to them. "Is she sick?" Nerissa's muffled crying went on. Jory shook his head. Alistair frowned and then his eyes opened wide. "Did Cailan-?" He stood up. "Did the king hurt her?"

Neither recruit spoke. Alistair clenched his fists. "Duncan will hear of this," he muttered and strode over to Duncan's tent. Jory detached himself from Nerissa and ran after him. He held the young man by the arm.

"No, it wasn't the king! Don't bother Duncan over nothing."

"It's not 'nothing'," Alistair replied. "She's obviously distressed!"

"She's lost her family," Jory blurted out. "Her entire family."

Alistair's brow furrowed in disbelief.

"She lost her family," Jory said, feeling sick. He remembered the way she had reacted that afternoon and his own stomach felt as if it was about to be upset. "That's why she's crying."

Alistair turned on his heels, determined to walk back to where she was, but Jory once again grabbed him by the arm.

"Please," he said gently. "Let her grieve on her own."

Alistair looked at him, swallowed hard and nodded. He turned his eyes towards her one last time and then walked away.

Jory returned to her side. The crying had been replaced by a soft sniffle. Her eyes were puffy and reddish, and so was her nose, irritated by having been cleaned by the back of her hand too many times. He sat down next to her and remained silent, hoping that his presence there would somehow comfort her.

"You must know," she muttered.

"Hmm? What is it?"

She turned to him and said, "You have to know what happened."

* * *

Daveth, Alistair, Jory, and Nerissa walked towards Duncan's tent. The Warden-Commander was talking to Cailan. Nerissa slowed down, aware of the possible nature of the conversation. Duncan was nodding and the king seemed content. She saw someone moving next to her. Alistair. He was pretending to adjust parts of his splintmail that did not need adjustment. She understood.

By the time they reached the camp, Cailan and Duncan had finished talking. The three recruits and the junior Warden bowed to the king, their arms crossed over their chests, and Cailan bowed back.

"Duncan tells me that you've got a long way to go today. I wish you the best of luck, and may the Maker watch over you." His voice was kind, and the simple smile was there, as usual, painted on his face. His eyes landed on Alistair, who was looking down at the time, but Nerissa caught the expression in them.

Longing.

It occurred to her that, if they were offered the possibility to switch places, Cailan would not have hesitated for a minute. But it was also true that, in spite of his desire of being free to do what he wished, he would never shy away from his duty.

Cailan was all that the Theirin line needed.

Or at least, Nerissa thought as she looked at Alistair from the corner of the eye, that was what she hoped.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Next: Jory**


	4. Jory

**Jory**

The gates closed behind them, and the safeness of the camp was replaced by the unwelcoming wilderness, which stretched as far as the eye could see.

"So, how are we going to deal with this, ser warden?" Daveth said, looking around.

"You will work the bow and stay back," Alistair said. "I'll go ahead with Jory, and Nerissa will come in between us."

"Ooh, d'you hear that, Hips?" Daveth whispered in Nerissa's ear. "Somebody's got a good mind to make an Antivan milk sandwich out of you." She frowned and shuddered. She had read those words in a book that uncle Leonas had given her father as a present, a long time ago. Oriana had explained to her what it was, hoping that she would stop asking Nan to make one for her.

"We can stop and eat later, Daveth," Alistair said, oblivious to what the roguish recruit had meant. Daveth snorted. "According to the map, we're supposed to go ahead until we find the sunken ruins marked here." He showed them a point in the map and they nodded. "The sooner we start moving, the faster we'll return. Let's get going."

"So, what do you think we'll find there?" Daveth asked, after having walked for a long time in silence. "Care to place a bet? I'll go for 'nothing'."

"We shouldn't speak," Jory said. "We barely know this place – we'd better say alert."

Daveth rolled his eyes at the big man. "Killjoy." His eyes landed on Nerissa's back. At least his eyes would have something pleasant to feast on. Her swaying hips were certainly distracting him from the surroundings. Her legs were firm and her buttocks looked promising, even under that leather armour that she was wearing. Daveth squinted. He knew good quality when he saw it, and that armour… Even though it was simple, he could tell that it had been made for her body. He smirked. There was something about this woman, and he was going to find out what it was.

"Took a good look?" Nerissa said after a while.

"The memory will accompany me during the long, cold nights," he chuckled.

"You're a charmer, for sure." She smiled, but Daveth thought her smile looked cold and cruel. If her eyes had been daggers, he would already have dropped dead.

He hurried until he was right behind her and whispered, "I wouldn't be, if your hips weren't so distracting."

Jory stopped and turned on his heels. "For the love of the Maker! Can't you leave her alone?"

"What's with you?" Daveth scoffed.

"Is something the matter?" Alistair said, joining the group.

As Jory and Daveth bickered, and Alistair tried to understand what they were arguing about, Nerissa looked around. Everything felt strange – unusually quiet. She was expecting to encounter more Darkspawn, but the area felt deserted. They were walking the same path that the other initiates had done before, which accounted for some of the remains that they had found along the way, but she always thought that when things were too quiet, there was a storm brewing somewhere else.

And then she saw it. Something glittering in the sun. Something that was moving slowly. She shushed her companions and pointed towards the walking helmets.

When they got to them, Nerissa had to suppress a gasp. She knew these men. These were Highever men. She took a step back as Alistair dashed to the men's side. Jory passed by her and whispered, "Do not worry. They won't recognize you if you stay behind and don't speak. Let me handle this."

She nodded and took some bandages from her pack. Alistair was already working on helping the men, who were injured but not badly hurt.

"What happened to you?" Alistair asked.

"We were scouting with our liege, Lord Cousland, when-" the man groaned in pain as Jory applied a salve on the only wound that seemed dangerous.

"Monsters! Horrible things seemed to come out of the ground!" another man said.

"There weren't many of them, m'lord," the third one said, "but they took us by surprise."

"Where is Lord Cousland?" Jory asked.

"Wait – I know that name," Alistair said. Nerissa held her breath. "The Teyrn of Highever, isn't he? He's an important man. Surely you haven't left him alone in this place!" Alistair said, horrified.

The first man looked at Jory. "We-We didn't mean to, but they took him."

Nerissa felt her stomach turning upside down. "They? The monsters?" she asked, trying to keep her voice in control.

"No, not the monsters. The wild folk."

"That would be the Chasind," Daveth said. "I'm not sure that's better, though. There are stories that say that they eat their prisoners."

"They didn't take our liege prisoner," another man said. "He'd been badly wounded, and the Chasind took him, and the others, with them. One of them told us to go back to our camp and tell our men what had happened."

"But you're wounded as well," Alistair pointed out. "Why didn't they take _you_ along?"

"Our wounds are recent. We've just come across a pack of wolves."

"No monsters," another pointed out.

"They seem to have disappeared," the third man nodded.

"All right," Alistair said, putting the rest of the bandages away in his pack. "I think you are ready to go what's left of the way back to the camp on your own. You should be fine – still broad daylight and we haven't met anything dangerous on our way here."

The three soldiers thanked him and went away quickly. As they turned to leave, Jory whispered to Nerissa, "Keep your faith. He's still alive. We could ask Alistair to deviate from our planned route and look for him."

Nerissa shook her head. "As much as I would like to do that, I'm afraid I can't. Not without compromising my anonymity."

"Is that more important than the Teyrn?" Jory asked.

She bit her lower lip. "It is far more complex than I've let on, Jory. It isn't only about Highever. But Fergus… We should find him. He needs to return home, safe and sound. _I_ can't do this, but perhaps _you…"_

Jory stared at her. "Are you saying…?"

"It is up to you. I won't force you."

"I'm not sure you'd need to," he grunted. "Even though being a Warden would be a great honour, I'm starting to think that my duty lies somewhere else."

"As I said, I won't force you, Jory. But I won't stop you either," Nerissa replied quietly, still looking down.

"What are you two blabbering about?" Daveth shouted over his shoulder. Having lived near the Wilds for some years, he was talking to Alistair about the best way to get to the ruins, following the Old Trail.

"Keep walking, archer," Jory said, not a trace of amusement in his voice. Daveth hurried his step and returned to Alistair's side. Nerissa looked back one more time. A grey mutt was watching them in the distance. Nerissa stopped and waited. The dog stared at her for a few seconds and then ran away.

"I may have a plan, Jory," she murmured.

* * *

"So…" Sereda panted, as she bashed a dummy with her newly-acquired shield. "Was it me…? Or was she… actually sobbing last night… in her sleep?"

_"She?"_ Faren asked. He had been sparring with Theron and the archer had hit him on the head with his bow a little too hard, drawing blood. Neria was standing behind him, trying to remember her training on healing spells.

"Nerissa," she frowned. What was the position of the palm? Towards the injury or the healer? If only Gwyn was there. Oh, but Wynne was there! She had seen her. "I will be back in a spell!" she said, as she sprinted towards the mages' camp.

Theron watched her leave. His fingers tightened around the belly of his composite bow. He had been watching her all day long, and the previous day, and the day before that one. She seemed to be a nice woman. Every time Sereda started complaining about something the humans had done, Neria listened to her patiently and waited until the dwarven woman had finished her rambling, and then she would distract her with a kind comment or a story from her life in the Circle of Magi. She had accompanied Faren in his exploration of the grounds, even though those seemed eternal, and his conversation was not stimulating. _Asha'atisha_, he thought. Woman of peace.

* * *

"Should we cut the ropes?" Jory asked. The four of them were staring at the bodies of the men who had been hung. More Highever soldiers. Nerissa shifted uncomfortably.

"We don't have time to burn them," she said.

Alistair nodded. "May the Maker have mercy on their souls," he murmured.

Nerissa walked away from the place. She was starting to have doubts. Perhaps Jory was right. Perhaps her duty was to return to Highever. But there was the matter of Alistair and the king, and she had given her word to Eamon as well. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly as she made her way up a slope. She spotted several bodies scattered about. She made a signal for the others to wait while she was scouting. She approached the first corpse she saw and waited. Nothing happened. She whistled softly and her companions met her. She ran her fingers along the skin of a dead Genlock. It felt stone cold.

"These must be the ones the others found two days ago." She rubbed her fingers together and smelled them. "What a distinctive odour," she murmured. "Like… Earthy mushrooms and dust."

"You might want to clean that hand before touching anything else," Alistair warned her. "It can be like poison for a non-Warden."

"I did not touch the wound." Nerissa wiped her hand in a cloth given to her by Jory and looked at her senior officer. "Did Duncan tell you that we were attacked by a small group on our way here?"

"He did, yes. Still, there is no need for us to run unnecessary risks, is there?" Alistair's voice was strong and confident. Nerissa stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

"Fair enough." She curtsied gracefully and signaled for him to continue walking. "After you, ser warden."

Alistair raised an eyebrow, puzzled. As Jory walked by, he patted the young Warden on the shoulder and chuckled.

"Pulling you leg, Ser Alistair; never forget that."

* * *

"Palm towards you first, and don't forget the words," Wynne told Neria.

"I won't. Thank you, Senior Enchanter," the girl replied.

"Neria, wait." Wynne called after her. She seemed hesitant. "Irving told me… I was led to believe that I should have expected another enchanter, Torrian, instead of you. Is this right?"

Neria's amber eyes looked down and she nodded. "Torrian gave up his place so that I could come. I - I made a mistake, Senior Enchanter." Her voice trailed off and she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Wynne pressed her arm sympathetically.

"Would you like to tell me about it? Perhaps I can help," she said gently.

Neria let out a single sob before composing herself. For a moment Wynne thought that the girl was going to run away from her, but to her surprise, Neria nodded and started talking.

* * *

Daveth's arrow went straight through the last Hurlock they found on the outskirts of the ruins. The archer trotted up to where Nerissa was looting another Hurlock for arrows, and gave her a roguish smile. "I tell you, people – it's all in the hand that does the shooting. Oi, Hips! Did you see how that one went down? I can show you some other uses of my hand when we return-"

"What did you just tell her?" Jory grunted, wiping the blood from his blade and walking towards them.

Daveth folded his arms. "What is it to you? Are you her guardian?"

"Calm down, you two," Alistair intervened, having finished scouting the area. "I suppose that's Daveth's idea of a joke. I must say it wasn't very good, and I know about jokes. And don't worry: your hips are not_ that_ big," he said to Nerissa candidly.

"What a relief," Nerissa squinted. Her stomach growled. "Er… I know we're close to our destination, but can we please stop and have something to eat?"

"Let's scout for a while and see if we can find a good spot, shall we?" Alistair replied, as he and Daveth walked away.

Jory stood by Nerissa. He shuffled his feet on the grass and she turned to look at him. He was watching the horizon attentively. She nudged him.

"You look tired, Jory. Thinking about it, aren't you?"

"All the time." He sighed. "After everything you told me last night… I was barely able to sleep. I'm thinking about Helena, and our child. Are we really going to do this?"

"I'm bound by my father's word, and I have another duty that I have willingly chosen. Still, I will aid you, however I can."

"I'm not sure," he said, shaking his head. "It sounds somewhat dangerous. Not for us, but for them…" He looked at the figures of Alistair and Daveth, who were returning from their walk.

"Not even the slightest shadow of a doubt, Jory," Nerissa replied in a low voice. "If you are having second thoughts, then perhaps we shouldn't go through with it." She turned her back on him. As she was walking away, he felt his grip on her forearm.

"Do you think me such coward?" Jory hissed. "I can't run away and leave you alone with them. What if you encountered more Darkspawn on your way back? You want to drug them so that they won't notice my escape, but if you are injured in the process, then it will have been in vain."

"I won't be injured." Nerissa removed her arm from his grip. "But it's true. If I fail, then I will have failed the arl as well." She pondered for a while. "I will speak to our men once we are back in camp, as soon as we're done with this Joining."

* * *

"Oi, Sereda!" Faren said. "Since Neria's taking so long, d'you think you can help me with these bandages?"

Sereda arched an eyebrow. "Is that a real question?"

"Well…" Faren pondered, "I thought it might be better to ask, since you're not obliged to do so." He smiled and handed her the bandages. Sereda rolled her eyes at him and snatched them from his hands.

"I'm a warrior," she grumbled as she wrapped his head in a less than friendly manner.

"Ow! Ow!" Faren cried. "That's… too tight!"

"I am not a healer!" Sereda scoffed, frustrated. She felt a hand on her shoulder and saw Theron, standing behind her, a kind look on his face.

"Let me show you how it's done," he said. He swiftly redid the work Sereda had just done and showed her how much pressure to put, and how to calculate the length of the bandages so that it would be enough for complete turns. Sereda watched him silently, and when Theron had finished, Faren thanked him and walked away to return the remaining bandages to his pack.

"I had to learn how to do it when I was alone in the forest with Tamlen," Theron explained. "Sometimes we would go hunting in small groups, and it was vital that all of us knew how to cure different kinds of wounds. I'm no healer either, but I think it's a useful skill, don't you agree?"

Sereda nodded reluctantly. "I guess… I guess it's difficult for me to think that we should know how to do everything. Where I come from… That's not my task. What we are is defined by birth, and we do not usually change our lot in life. We live by the Shape and die by the Stone."

Theron raised his eyebrows. _"Durgen'len Vir,"_ he said. Sereda's eyes were fixed on his face. "That means-"

"I know what it means. 'The Way of the Dwarf'. _Dawi Ekrund,_ we call it. How do you know about it? I didn't think that common _Elgi_ would know about it."

Theron smiled. "I didn't think that common _Durgen_ would know the _'Elgi'_ words either."

Sereda stared at him for some time. Slowly, a smile spread on her lips. "You and I will get along, won't we?" she said, and she looked away. "Oh look, here comes Neria."

Theron looked away, to the Wilds. "Do you think the _Shem _will be back soon?"

"I'd be surprised if they come back at all," Sereda grunted.

* * *

"Unbelievable," Alistair muttered. He was crouching next to the vestiges of an old chest that had been destroyed by time and weather. "Gone. Bloody Chasind. They can't have found the treaties interesting; why would they take them?"

"Chasind have no need for them, unless it's to wipe their asses," Daveth grunted. "What a way to make us waste our time, though. Now everyone, pay up."

"At least we got some practice," Jory sighed, giving the archer a coin. "So what now?"

"I am not sure, to be honest," Alistair said, shaking his head. "We'll return empty-handed, I'm afraid. Duncan will not-"

Nerissa took her bow and shot an arrow towards the higher part of the ruins. After she had prompted another, she shouted, "Come out and I won't shoot!"

The three men looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Nerissa's fingers tensed over the string. After a long silence, the figure of a woman emerged from behind a column.

"There's no need to be so rude," the woman said. Wild features on alabaster skin, framed by a dark mane that was carelessly held together by carved twigs.

"Have you been following us?" Nerissa asked, still not lowering her bow.

The woman crossed her arms, frowning. "And why should I answer to someone who seems intent in skewering me? Are you not civilized people?"

"What are you doing here? Were you the one who stole the documents from the chest?" Alistair demanded to know.

The woman sighed. "You_ really_ have no manners. Answer a question first. Who are _you,_ and what are you doing in this part of the land?"

Nerissa lowered her bow and returned the arrow to the quiver. She stared at the woman for a few seconds, but then she crossed her arms over her chest and bowed. "I apologize. We are Grey Wardens," she said. "We came looking for the documents in this chest, but it seems that we arrived late."

"Late indeed," the woman remarked as she approached the group. "This area is usually a quiet one, but lately there have been groups of Chasind moving about, no doubt due to the unwanted visitors that have been frequenting the place." She took a long look at Nerissa. "Do you have a name, _Grey Warden?"_

"My name is Nerissa. And you are?"

"You may call me Morrigan," the young woman said. Her eyes wandered about the men and then returned to Nerissa, a smirk dancing on them. "So, you are the one with the guts here, aren't you?"

Alistair frowned. "Now listen-" he said, but Jory held him by the arm. He could not stop Daveth in time, however.

"I kn-know w-what you are," the archer stammered, as he hid his hand behind his back and muttered something under his breath. "You're a w-witch. She's a witch, I tell you!" he shouted at the others. Alistair curled his lip at the young woman, and Jory looked as if he wanted to smother Daveth for panicking.

Morrigan arched an eyebrow, amused at the sight of the three big men. She heard a soft chuckle and turned towards Nerissa, who looked entertained. "You find it funny, don't you?"

"You didn't hear him bragging about his manhood all the way here," Nerissa replied, "so yes, I find it extremely funny that such a _virile_ man feels intimidated by a woman on her own."

"Not _any_ woman would roam the Wilds on her own, though," Morrigan said snidely.

"Those are your circumstances, I guess. _I _didn't have a choice," Nerissa shrugged. "It was either coming along with them, or not at all."

The two women seized each other with a long, hard look. After a while, Morrigan's lips curled in a mysterious smile. "Come. Follow me," she said.

* * *

"Do you think that they will have reached the ruins by now, Commander?" Logan asked. The senior Warden had been helping the smithy with the preparation of the armours for the new recruits. He had been watching the lot –the elves and the dwarves– and he wondered if Duncan's recruitment had not been more a question of charity than practicality. He was particularly concerned about Faren. In his experience, those who had been through hardship got the worst part during the Joining. As Faren's armour was getting ready, Logan wondered if he would get to wear it. He thought the same of Daveth. He did not like Daveth at all. Another case of charity. Duncan had prevented the thief's execution by recruiting him, and as soon as he had been brought to the Warden's camp, he had been accused of pilferage by a soldier. Duncan had stood for the roguish recruit, in spite of Logan's palpable disapproval.

But Duncan was the commander. He surely knew better.

"I should think so, yes," Duncan replied. He seemed to be on edge that day. Logan knew that the longer you were a Warden, the easier it was to feel the presence of Darkspawn. Logan had not been a Warden for long –three years since he had been recruited from the Royal Guard– but he knew what he felt. It was not the same hunger that he had felt since his Joining. It was a gurgling feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the rushing of blood in his veins. Something was definitely coming their way.

"Will there be enough time, I wonder?" Logan murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Time," Logan repeated. "Will there be enough time for them to get accustomed to the Taint? It is no easy task."

"It will have to be enough," Duncan replied taciturnly.

"The ones we have here… They could be induced now. At least they will have more time to feel better before the battle – whenever that happens."

Duncan looked at the Warden. "You care about them, don't you?" he smiled.

Logan grunted. "It's not that."

Duncan laughed. "Of course."

Logan scoffed. "Well, you tell me about it, Commander. You certainly care for our latest addition, _and_ for Alistair. Will you let him fight with us? He's been rather excited about participating in this incursion."

Duncan folded his arms and sighed. "He… We'll see."

Logan cast a quick glance at Duncan, but remained silent.

* * *

The older woman stared at them with her golden eyes. Nerissa was aware of Daveth's jittery legs, Jory's bated breath, and Alistair's poorly veiled contempt.

"You have come for the treaties," she said matter-of-factly. "I recognize warden initiates. They have a distinctive way of moving. Obliviously confident, I would call it. You have no idea what you're getting into." She smiled, and her eyes fixed on Alistair. "Ah, but you… You have tasted it, haven't you? Their blood. I can sense it in you. Their blood, and something else…" She opened her eyes wide and chuckled. "Something else indeed." She took a few steps towards the Warden and he stepped back.

"No tricks," he said, raising his hand to meet the hilt of his sword.

Morrigan's mother laughed. "Ah boy, we are but simple wild folk. You would use your sword against two unarmed women of the Wilds?"

"You can't be that unarmed," Jory murmured. "Otherwise you wouldn't survive in this place for long. And if you truly were witches, your weapons could be unknown and dangerous to us."

The woman's eyes shifted towards the warrior. "Clever. A while ago, I would have thought you irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, but now… Why, it seems you may have a chance after all. And you," she said to Daveth, "What's with that mumbling? '_Witch of the Wilds', 'Witch of the Wilds'_… Are you invoking something?"

Daveth whimpered quietly. He did not dare raise his eyes. Nerissa scoffed. She turned around to admonish him, but she found herself face to face with the woman.

"Now_ you,"_ the woman said slowly, "you are something."

Nerissa could feel the breath of the woman over her skin. She smelled of smoke and leaves. Earthy, just like the Darkspawn. She smiled. "I would like to think that I am _someone_, not _something._"

The old woman laughed. "You are both, minstrel and lute; you're both, bound and binder. It seems you have a long road ahead. Two of them, in fact. It will be interesting to see which of them you choose, and if it turns out to be the right one."

Nerissa stared at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm just an old woman with plenty of time in her hands," she replied with a sigh. "But you may call me Flemeth."

"Wait… _The_ Flemeth of the legends?" Alistair chuckled. "Oh, I see." He winked at Jory. "Pulling my leg, right?"

Jory stared at Alistair. "Not this time, I'm afraid."

* * *

_"-And that one day we shall join you," _Logan finished.

Theron went first. He volunteered, since he thought that nothing could happen to him that had not happened already. The mixture tasted familiar, like one of the potions that Ashalle had given him once for a bad toothache. He remembered that night. The fever had taken over his body, leaving him shaking and shivering. His bones were rattling and fighting their way out. He screamed.

As if struck by a bolt of lightning, he fell on his back. Neria gasped and looked at Duncan, horrified. Logan crouched next to Theron and nodded.

Duncan offered the goblet to Neria. She took it hesitantly. She looked at the mixture. Something made her sniffle. _Lyrium._ The mixture had lyrium. She took a sip of it, expecting to feel the refreshing minty taste of lyrium in her throat. However, there was a certain sweetness to this mixture, very similar to marzipan. Her stomach churned. A fire was consuming her insides, and she felt the sour taste of bile in her mouth.

Theron's eyes landed on Neria's body, lying unconscious next to him. He looked at Duncan, who was handing the chalice to Faren, and then at Logan, who was saying something like, "She will be fine in a while." He looked down at Neria. She seemed to be sleeping – even dreaming. He wondered if mages' dreams were any different from the rest of them.

Faren's impression of the mixture was that of his mother's moss-wine. He had tasted it once, when he was a boy, behind her back. She had flogged him for wasting her precious elixir. He had fallen to the floor and curled up, hoping that his mother would stop; hoping that Rica would come for him soon. _Don't let her kick you in the head,_ Rica's voice told him, and as he hid his face, darkness leapt over him.

Sereda shot a quick look at Logan. The Warden examined Faren's body and nodded. In spite of her indifference when it came to Faren's well-being, she found the flame of pride still burning inside. A dwarf had survived, against all odds. She could not be less. She took the goblet confidently from Duncan's hands and drank the rest of the contents. Dry and dusty; a mouthful of ashes. She started to choke – a hand was crushing her throat. Bhelen's hand. The bastard… She would fight back this time. She reached out and squeezed his treacherous face. Gasping for breath, she thought that she would have her revenge, one way or another.

"She's feisty even when she's going down," Logan chuckled. Duncan and the three new Wardens watched her flail her arms until her eyes opened. She sat up quickly and looked around.

"What- What was that?" she asked. "What were those visions?"

Duncan stepped forward. "I assume that each of you had different dreams or nightmares. Logan will talk to you about them, once you have rested, eaten well, and had your new armours fitted. Welcome, Grey Wardens."

* * *

"You go ahead," Nerissa said to Alistair, once they were back at the fortress. "I have something to do first."

"What could be more important-" Alistair started saying, but Jory interrupted him.

"It's women's business, Ser Alistair. She will join us as soon as she's done with it."

"Well, I… I guess I didn't need to know…" Alistair babbled.

Nerissa dashed towards the Royal Grounds. Her legs felt tired, but her determination would not let her be still any longer. She was stopped at the entrance of the camp.

"I do not need to enter," she told the guard. "I need you to find Ser Morian. He is with the Couslands."

"What business do you have with him?"

Nerissa thought for a moment. She took off the sword belt and the family sword, and gave it to him. "Give him this. He will know."

The guard gave her a skeptical look. She fumbled in her coin purse and gave him a sovereign. The guard blinked a few times and ordered another soldier to fetch Ser Morian. A few minutes later, Nerissa saw him come running. As soon as the man opened his mouth to greet her, she started talking.

"A word with you, m'lord. Perhaps we can talk near that tree?" She did not wait for him to reply. Once they had made sure that they were alone, Ser Morian asked the inevitable question.

"What is the meaning of this, my lady? Only you or your father could have sent me the family sword, and he hasn't arrived yet. You're here instead – I thought your father had decided-"

"-To leave me in charge of the castle, yes. There's been treachery, Ser Morian. Arl Howe has revealed himself a traitor and he has murdered my family and taken over Highever. Have you been attacked on your way here?"

"Yes," the man recalled. "A band of outlaws. We thought they wanted to kidnap Lord Cousland, but we dispatched them swiftly. You mean to say…" Ser Morian gaped. "My lady…! But surely…! I – I have no words… How could he-?"

"Whatever reasons he had are unknown to me. You know that my father always entrusted my brother with information of that nature. Ser Morian…" Nerissa breathed in deeply, "What I'm going to ask you to do is solely based on the fact that I am currently the last of the Couslands."

"The soldiers told us about your brother. The king has given us permission to send a search party in the morning."

"There is no time," Nerissa said adamantly. "Things are imminent. I am here because my father made a promise; I am to join the Grey Wardens. So before I do that, and as acting heir, I command you to take a small token force with you, and make sure that my brother finds a way to recover our home."

"It can be seen as deserting, milady," Ser Morian murmured.

"You are acting under my command," she replied. "Ser Jory will come with you. He is–"

"The Champion of Highever, I know. But I thought he was here to join the Wardens?"

"And he will. He will undergo the Joining, and that will be it. If anything, as a Grey Warden, he will be able to sense Darkspawn, so the passage through the Wilds won't be as bad. Take the soldiers who let you know about the Chasind with you, and take a force of those men with families in Highever. Let them know what they are fighting for. Thirty soldiers won't make a difference in the outcome of this battle." She moved closer to the captain. "Once you get there, you will have to count on the townsfolk for protection. You will have to find a way to train them. I have already discussed the situation with Jory, so he will give you the details. Tell my brother of Arl Howe's betrayal. Tell him that I _will _survive, and I_ will_ join him as soon as this is over."

"My lady… Do you think that we can take over Highever on our own?" Ser Morian asked politely.

"Arl Eamon has promised to fight for us," she replied. "And I'm sure that Arl Bryland will support us as well. We will have the support of the king. All you need to do is to endure, but I need you to be there, to watch, until our numbers grow. There is no way that this can go wrong, captain."

"So, Ser Jory is coming with us. I will select a group of men as soon as I get back to our camp. Lord Cousland… The Teyrn will be safe, my lady. Do not fear."

"I know, Ser Morian," Nerissa replied warmly. "Off I go to the Wardens, then. We'll meet again soon, I promise."

* * *

"Aren't you married, Ser Knight?" Daveth asked nonchalantly. He was cleaning his nails and resting against a column in the Old Temple.

"Is that to me?" Jory grunted. He was pacing up and down the entrance, hoping to get a glimpse of Nerissa.

"Well, I don't know much about men, but Ser Warden over there looks as unspoiled as the lands beyond the Wilds," Daveth sniggered. "No, what I mean is… What is there between you and Hips?"

"She's got a name," Jory replied impatiently. "You might as well use it when you refer to her."

"See? That's what I was talking about. The two of you spent most of the day whispering and murmuring, walking really close… So what will it be? Will you be visiting her tent tonight? I know you two spent last night tog-" Jory had quickly drawn his sword and the blade was now dangerously close to Daveth's neck. The younger man swallowed hard. "All right! Forget I said anything!"

"Will you two please stop arguing?" Alistair shouted from behind. Duncan was standing near him, watching the two men with curiosity.

"What is happening here?" he asked quietly.

"We're tired," Jory replied without looking at him, his sword still drawn. "And when men are tired, they say and do foolish things." He sheathed his sword and turned to Duncan. "My apologies, Commander."

Duncan nodded and looked around. Nerissa was running towards them. "Ah, and the last of you is here as well. Whatever race or background," he spoke, "whatever life you had, you will now become brothers –and sisters– of every Warden that was, is, and will ever be. Their blood will be your blood, and in mastering the Taint," he said, as he poured the contents of a vial in the chalice, "in surviving this Joining, you will be bound to the Order for life."

"Is that…?" Jory started asking.

"… The blood of those monsters." Daveth muttered.

"That's right," Duncan replied. "This is our tradition, and it is only through this that we can slay the Archdemon. This is why the Wardens are needed."

Nerissa looked at Alistair through the corner of the eye. He had mentioned in the Wilds that Wardens had special abilities when it came to detecting Darkspawn, but he had avoided talking about the ritual. It did not matter now – it was too late to retreat. But she was concerned about leaving her old life behind. Her twin brother was no longer a Cousland, and now she would be lost to the family as well. No wonder her mother had objected to Duncan's presence in the castle.

"Alistair?" Duncan asked kindly. "If you would speak the Words…"

Alistair bowed his head. Nerissa could feel the pride in his voice and she wondered whether Eamon's task would be possible after seeing how much Alistair esteemed the Order.

_"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant."_

Daveth was holding his breath. He was actually doing this – he was joining the Grey Wardens. Secretly, he did not think himself worthy. All his life he had lived outside the law. Was this really what he wanted? If he survived the Joining… If he survived the battle… Then what? Vigilance? He was no guard. He was a man of action. What would he do for the rest of his life?

_"Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn." _

Jory thought that there was honour in the Wardens, sure. Under different circumstances, perhaps, he would have considered it the greatest honour. 'Legendary warriors' – there were no better words to those who lived by the sword. But there was something greater than the pursuit of honour. Protecting others, fighting injustice; the world was a cruel place, and Jory was beginning to think that those monsters out there were not the most inhuman things roaming the land. No; his duty was to restore balance. Otherwise, what kind of world would they be protecting?

_"And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten." _

How many lives would be lost when the battle took place? That night… It seemed to have happened ages ago. Their faces, however… They were still there. Fresh. Cold. She wished she could remember them the way they had always been. The family that stayed together, unless it meant sacrificing their own for the greater good. The family that always did what had to be done, at the cost of their own lives.

_"And that one day we shall join you."_

Alistair looked at Duncan and he offered Daveth the chalice. Daveth took a sip. Bittersweet and cold. Unusually cold, like the alleys of Denerim; like the feel of his first knife in his pocket. And suddenly, the alley was on fire, and he was running away from it. Denerim was on fire, and there was no escape.

Daveth fell and Nerissa crouched next to him. He was not dead. He seemed to be entranced. She looked at Duncan and Duncan nodded. "He will survive," he said, as he passed the cup to Jory. The warrior took it in his hands and drank it quickly. It felt watery and refreshing, completely different from what he had expected. It reminded him of the waterfall in Redcliffe, and the nights that he had spent with his people there. Helena's face appeared in front of his eyes, giving him a sad look. She had never wanted to live in Redcliffe. He knew that now. He wanted to see her again and tell her that they did not need to leave Highever. But her face was lost in the smoke, and his eyes burned.

Daveth woke up when he felt something heavy falling on his chest. He opened his eyes and saw Jory's open-eyed head there. He seemed to be muttering something. The young man looked up and saw that Nerissa was now holding the cup. He wanted to warn her about the nightmare, but it was too late. She was already drinking.

Slimy, salty, and lukewarm. Blood, saliva, and sweat. Her throat refused to swallow it. She closed her eyes and forced herself to do so. For a moment, nothing happened. Duncan's eyes were fixed on her, and then he opened his mouth. Teeth. Gnashing, ripping apart; threatening her. Alistair, on the floor. The sound of thunder and a rumble that shook her very core. She looked up.

A dragon.

She opened her eyes. Duncan's face looked down on her and smiled. "Welcome."

* * *

After talking to Duncan about their visions, they were sent back to the Wardens' camp for a meal and their armours. Alistair remained with the senior wardens, and the three new Wardens walked away.

"Everything's ready, Jory," Nerissa murmured. "Ser Morian and the men will be waiting for you near the gates to the Wilds. I would give you my Virgil, but-"

"Your mabari would not follow us. Do not fear, milady," he smiled at her. "We will find the Teyrn."

"So you _were_ her guardian after all!" Daveth cried out. Nerissa and Jory turned around. The young man looked amused. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Who is this Teyrn you're talking about?"

Jory turned to him. "Now listen-"

"Jory," Nerissa said, placing a hand on his arm. He looked at her and hesitated for a moment. She turned to Daveth. "Highever has been invaded. Jory is going to look for my brother and they'll return to the north to recover the city."

"And your brother is this Teyrn you were talking about?" Daveth asked. There was no sarcasm in his voice. "The one taken by the Chasind?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And you're not going back? What is wrong with you, Hips?" Daveth muttered.

"My duty is-"

"Sod the duty! Andraste's ass, it's your home!"

"Which is why _I_ will be going in her stead," Jory said. "My wife and my child are there. I can't think of fighting monsters when there's a whole town of innocent people who run the risk of being slaughtered by treacherous hands." He turned around and walked resolutely towards the gate. Nerissa followed him.

"Wait!" Daveth shouted. "I'm coming with you!"

Jory and Nerissa looked at each other. "This is not your fight, archer," Jory said. "You are a Warden now. You've been given the chance to start anew."

"Look," Daveth sighed. "I'm only here because Duncan saved me from being executed. I thought my duty was to fight this battle. But what will happen after the battle? I never really stopped to consider that this was a thing _for life._ Besides, you need someone who knows the land, especially in the dark." He took a few steps towards Jory. "What do you say, Ser Knight? We save that town and then-"

"And then we return to the Wardens," Jory said seriously.

Daveth sighed again. "Killjoy, through and through. If we survive, we'll see. Do we have a deal?" He extended his right arm. Jory pressed it with his right hand.

"We have a deal," he said. He looked at Nerissa. "What will you tell-?"

"Do not worry about that," she replied quietly. "I have friends in high places."

"We should leave as soon as possible, then," Daveth pointed out. "See you in Highever, Hips," he winked at her.

Jory looked at her silently. He bowed and walked away swiftly, followed by Daveth.

"Maker protect you, Ser Jory," Nerissa whispered, feeling lonely for the first time.

...

**.**

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**Next Chapter: Ishal**


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